Here We Go Again
by AnnaFrog
Summary: One-shot. Reid is abducted, you know the drill. Reid-whump. T for language. Bit of a crackfic. Please read and review. Enjoy!


**Author's Note: I was talking with a friend over coffee, and we came to the agreement that it has been far too long since we've seen a "Reid-torture" episode. So, to ease the dry spell, here's a short ficlet. I don't own Criminal Minds, or Harry Potter.**

The case had seemed simple enough; one individual setting fires, all having to do with some sort of personal connection. It seemed like the perfect case for Reid, so Hotch let he, Morgan, and Rossi drive the three hours to the small town.

When they got there, Reid had narrowed down the locations where the UnSub might be to three places. They had decided to send out two local cops with each agent and go to every location.

There was a baseball field, a barn, and a bowling alley. Morgan, who had played some baseball in between football and basketball, decided to take the field. Rossi took the barn since Reid had had enough trouble with them to last a lifetime. Spencer was left with the bowling alley. He seemed happy enough; after all, what was the chance that the UnSub would go there as opposed to the deserted barn or vacant field? So they took their officers and went their separate ways.

Looking back on it, Morgan couldn't help but feel that he should have told the officers with Reid that the kid had a penchant for attracting trouble…

One of the officers with Reid, Larry, drove himself, the young genius, and his fellow officer, Don, to the bowling alley. When the car shut off, Reid opened his door and stepped out, staring at the building. It was closed for the night, and looked oddly creepy in the dark. Dull lights shone through the dusty windows, casting an eerie glow on the group of men.

The officers followed Reid, opening the door (the owner had given them a key earlier after they explained the situation to him) and walking inside. Nothing moved around them, but they decided to look around to make sure. Larry took the counter and shoe racks, flashlight on and gun pointed. Don inspected the concessions counter, gun and flashlight also out. Reid walked carefully over to the bowling lanes, gun drawn, flashlight beaming.

Slowly, he walked to the end of the first row and shone his light into the cavern which swallowed the ball and pins. He inspected each row the same way, until he got to the end.

He had just straightened up from peering into the last lane when he heard soft rustling to his left. Expecting one of the officers, he looked up. Immediately, his head met with the business end of a bowling pin. It did not, unfortunately, knock him out, which would have made him oblivious to the pain. Instead, he in a state of shock, leaving him temporarily incapable of movement but able to feel every sickening throb of his bruised skull.

The pin-wielder took advantage of his momentary paralysis, grabbing his arms and dragging him out the side door. He pulled Reid along in the grass, binding his hands with flex-cuffs as they went. The man, which Spencer now realized was probably the UnSub (more than one criminally insane nut job operating in the same small town was exceedingly unlikely), had pulled him to an old truck. Rust appeared at random intervals on the ancient Ford pickup, in between dirt and mud.

The UnSub picked up Reid (who weighed _maybe_ one-forty soaking wet) and pitched him headfirst into the bed of the truck. He managed to avoid landing on his much-abused head, but his shoulder took a beating in its place. Reid laid there, almost willing himself to black out, and he felt the UnSub get into the truck, start it, and pull away.

_Oh great_ he thought,_ I'm being abducted _again_. What do I have to look forward to this time? Let me draw on my copious amount of experience with this. Let's see, I'm definitely going to be tied to something, like a chair, more than likely get the crap beat out of me. I wonder if he'll inject me with a narcotic? It's been a while since that one's happened; I've already been addicted to Dilaudid. Maybe acid? I've heard _that's_ an experience. He might try to cut me; that one hasn't happened yet. Or worse, he might try to cut my hair! Oh no!_ Reid shuddered at the prospect. _Morgan, Rossi, you'd better find me before that happens, or you're going to be the ones paying for a wig._

It seemed to Reid that the drive took only a minute, but then again he probably had a concussion, so his opinion might not be trustworthy at the moment. He felt the UnSub lower the gate on the truck. He grabbed Reid's ankles and pulled, dragging the genius along. The UnSub caught him under the arms right before he hit the ground and pulled him along. Spencer was drug into a small shack he hadn't known was there until he saw it.

The Unsub tied Reid to a chair (_right so far_, thought Spencer). Then he hauled back and punched Reid square in the face (_two for two_, he thought painfully).

"You stupid idiot!" yelled the UnSub in a rage. "Why did you have to interfere? I need to destroy these places! Don't you understand?"

_At least my profile was right_, thought Reid through his pounding head. Out of nowhere, the man's fist came flying at his face again and Reid bit his lip to keep from crying. Honestly, he was surprised there wasn't a permanent impression there from all the times he had tried to muffle his screams.

_I've got to do something_, he thought thickly. _Keep him preoccupied, give the guys time to find me._

"Why?" Reid scratched out.

The UnSub, who had been in the process of punching him again, stopped.

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why do you need to burn these places down?" asked Spencer, a little stronger.

"They're full of bad memories," answered the UnSub, letting his fist drop back to his side.

"Like what? What kind of memories?"

"Bad ones."

_Thanks for clearing _that _up. _"What, uh, what happened at the restaurant?"

"Wreck," grunted the UnSub. "It was the other asshole's fault. If I knew where he lived, I'd burn _his_ house down, too," he said, a manic glint in his eyes. Reid was beginning to think this man was a few puppies short of a pet shop.

"And the gas station?" asked Reid, looking around, trying to find something he could incapacitate the man with.

"Mom wouldn't let me get a Twinkie in there when I was younger. If she wasn't dead, I'd torch her trailer." Now Reid was sure this guy was more than a few candles absent a candelabra.

_Keep him talking,_ he thought. "And the bowling alley? Why there?"

"Kelly Marsden told me she wouldn't go out with me there when I was fifteen. And I fell there when I was seventeen and everyone laughed at me. And the shoes gave me a fungus."

_That's why you wear socks, moron_. "Have you ever thought about getting therapy for all your pent-up aggression?" Reid asked, trying to keep the line of communication open, maybe help the man and save both of them.

This backfired. Big time.

"I DON'T NEED NO SHRINK!" the UnSub roared, his face flushing with anger. He reared his fist back and let it fly into Reid's face. It made contact with his temple, and Reid could almost _feel_ his brain jolting from side to side in his skull.

_Okay, maybe not the best idea_, thought Reid, his head throbbing fit to burst. However before he could rectify his mistake, the UnSub's fist reacquainted itself with his face. Repeatedly.

"NO SHRINK! I AIN'T MESSED UP! I'M JUST FINE! AIN'T MY FAULT PEOPLE MADE ME MAD! THESE PLACES MAKE ME SAD, I WANT 'EM GONE!"

Now the man moved on to the agent's torso. Reid cringed with every blow to his chest, wondering why his ribs hadn't cracked yet. Then the man buried his fist into Reid's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Reid struggled to breathe, the UnSub knocked his chair to the floor. He then kicked him, repeatedly and mercilessly. Reid was actually hitting his own head against the floor in an effort to knock himself out.

Just when Reid thought he might succeed in sending himself into a coma, he felt the building rattle as the door was forced open. Then he heard the voice of God. And God said:

"FBI! On the ground, dirt bag!"

Something came flying at the UnSub and Reid felt the pummeling cease. He dared to lift his much-abused head a fraction of an inch; Morgan had wrestled the UnSub to the ground and was now cuffing him, taking care to slam his face into the floor as he went.

Rossi hurried over to Reid, sliding his gun back in its holster. He pulled Reid's chair back upright, and then set about cutting the young man free. Once Spencer's wrists were no longer restrained, Rossi helped him up. From a standing position, Reid looked down on the UnSub and saw him properly for the first time. A man in his late twenties, early thirties, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked half--no, seven-eighths crazed.

Rossi saw Reid looking at the man.

"Let me guess: he's had a tough life and you feel for. You understand where he's coming from, and you want to help him?"

Reid turned and looked at Rossi for a moment. Then he spoke.

"Are you kidding me?" said Reid. "This guy's fucking nuts! There _is_ no way to understand his reason, because he _has_ no reason! To quote JK Rowling, he's 'nuttier than squirrel poo.'"

Rossi just stared at the kid for a moment, stunned at the words he had just heard. This was not typical, usually happy, occasionally troubled, overall eccentric Reid.

Reid gave the UnSub one last disgusted look, then walked out of the shack. Rossi watched him go, his mouth still hanging open.

_I guess the kid finally got tired of trying to understand the psychos who kidnap him. 'Bout damn time. Maybe now he'll just shoot them from the start and we won't have to search through every God-forsaken forest to find him._

**Just a short one-shot. Because you know you love to see your favorite boy genius/damsal in distress in the clutches of crazed nut-jobs. **


End file.
